


Before Draco Teamed Up With Neville Longbottom To Blow Up The World, He Threw A Tea Party

by lalejandra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Slytherins, Transformative Works Welcome, malicious plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-19
Updated: 2005-01-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:12:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: The Dark Lord has plans for Draco -- which is good, because Draco has plans for the Dark Lord.





	Before Draco Teamed Up With Neville Longbottom To Blow Up The World, He Threw A Tea Party

There was a brief moment, when he walked through the wards at the gate of Malfoy Manor, that Draco allowed himself to believe that his summer would not actually be the worst summer of his life. His father in prison meant more time with his mother, without the interference of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. It meant civilized teas and gay supper parties and new robes to match his mother's.

The wards embraced Draco, caressed him, welcomed him home by breathing warmth and softness onto him, such a change from walking through the scratchy and stiff Hogwarts wards. It was always a relief to come home -- for a moment. For one moment, and then the brief feeling of comfort and bliss dissipated when his father would appear in the doorway, staring sternly down his nose at Draco, who once again, as always, had disappointed him in several ways: not killing Harry Potter, not beating Harry Potter at Quidditch, not getting the most house points, letting his house be beaten by Harry Potter, blah blah fucking bloody blah.

Sometimes Draco thought that perhaps the biggest disappointment of all to his father was that Draco _wasn't_ Harry Potter, that Harry was a Potter and not a Malfoy or a Black, that Draco couldn't have become friends with Harry Potter and lured him over to the side of the Dark, all full of silly-looking masks and grown men trying to intimidate children and messy Muggle deaths.

His mother, however, had never given any indication that she wished Draco to be anyone other than himself. And now he and his mother would be alone in the Manor, with the House Elves, of course, but otherwise with only each other. It would be the perfect summer.

Then Draco stepped out of the wards and onto the grounds. Standing in the doorway was not his father, but several of his father's Death Eater friends, the kind of friends who didn't bother to protect him from Azkaban and hadn't been coming up with plans to break him out. The kind of friends Draco himself had, because no one understood the concepts of loyalty and honor these days. And they surrounded his mother, wands at her throat, wrists, and stomach.

"Draco Malfoy," said Rodolophus Lestrange. Draco felt his eyebrows coming together in a frown and deliberately smoothed the wrinkles out as he walked up the lane.

"Uncle Rodolphus," he said, and nodded his head. Then he nodded at Aunt Bella, who had her wand jabbing into his mother's throat. And then at Uncle Rabastan, wand in his mother's stomach, and the two men behind her slight frame -- Goyle and Crabbe, srs.

His stomach felt like it was going to explode, and why, oh why did he leave his wand in his carryall instead of sliding it into the sleeve holster? Perhaps he could take out at least one or two of them before they performed the Killing Curse and he died. At least with his death he'd be free of his father's stupid and ill-thought out dedication to the Dark Lord.

Draco raised his chin and sneered at the Death Eaters. His mother looked like she had been crying recently, but her eyes were dry, and her own chin was high as well.

"The Dark Lord has plans for you," said Aunt Bella, and if Draco's heart had leapt out of his chest at that moment, he would not have been surprised.

"Good," he said; the strength of his voice was an excellent start. Perhaps there was another way to get himself and his mother out of this, death being his least favorite of his options. "I have plans for the Dark Lord." He clenched his teeth, but held Aunt Bella's gaze, and his mother's lips curved up at the corners -- barely, but Draco noticed. His mother had plans too, then. He should have known.

He took a deep breath, and pushed into the doorway, pushed through the adults, pushed past Aunt Bella, scowled at Crabbe and Goyle. Like their sons, they parted way for him easily. He stood in the foyer, moved his fingers to call for a House Elf, and Tinktie appeared before he'd even completed the gesture.

"This to my room," he said, handing over the carryall. He hated to part with his wand, but could give no ground now that he'd gained it. "And prepare a tea in the sitting room for my mother and I and our..." Captors. "Guests."

Tinktie nodded, and Draco would have sworn on a stack of _Hogwarts: An Annotated History, Complete With Deleted Scenes and the Secret Slytherin Encoded Prophecies_ that she was relieved he was there. He was relieved he was there, too -- and relieved that the adults followed him into the sitting room, where tea was already waiting. Perfect.

Draco held the door open for all of the adults. Aunt Bella curtseyed at him crookedly, and he got the idea, somehow, that she was making fun of him. He rolled his eyes. He closed the door behind his mother, and she paused, briefly, and squeezed his hand.

"Now," said Draco, turning and seating himself in the large, overstuffed chair that had always been reserved for his father. "Who takes cream, and who takes lemon? I can never remember. Mother, would you pour?"

  



End file.
